


a subtler language

by miaxnder



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaxnder/pseuds/miaxnder
Summary: A subtler language for expressing the thousand different moments of the soul’s moods.~ Pyotr Ilyich TchaikovskyWhen Yuuri Katsuki finds himself landing in the winter snow of St. Petersburg, it takes less than 41 days for his life to change.NEEDS EDITING + FULLY POSTING





	a subtler language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LynyrdLionheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdLionheart/gifts).



_ St. Petersburg, Day 1 _

Yuuri had expected the Russian air to be cold and bitter on his tongue, an icy visage to assault all his senses. He was right, but the enchantment overwhelmed him, seeping into every part of his soul as he stepped out into light snow, his suitcase trailing almost forgotten behind him. He waited for the others, allowing himself the small liberation of spinning, catching light flakes on ice on his skin; any chill from the cold forgotten. Lilia suddenly stepped up beside him, muttering something indistinct under her breath before sighing and turning to face the troupe. Her clapping startled Yuuri, and he turned to listen with only half of his heart as she gave them their brief instructions.

\---

_ St. Petersburg, Day 3 _

Yuuri clutched his ticket tighter and tighter, every second feeling card digging into the skin of his palm. He took another light sip of wine, his anxiety and excitement building up and forcing him to distract himself with something,  _ anything _ . The foyer felt cold and empty, and he began to regret getting here so early. The taste of pinot on the tip of his tongue signalled another nervous sip.

He jumped slightly when someone started talking to him in Russian. Yuuri felt the panic rise within him, his vision unable to lock on the person’s face and his fingers tightening around the now shaking glass. He was unable to say a word, letting his confused expression do his talking in his stead.

The man laughed slightly, before gently resting a hand on Yuuri’s upper arm. “I was asking you if you were also here for Tchaikovsky?”

“Um, yeah actually, I am.” His company paused for a moment, as if expecting Yuuri to continue. The silence now felt less empty, and lighter, until the man spoke up again - continuing what Yuuri was certain would grow to be an awkward tapestry of small talk.

“We’re both early, so mind showing me where you got that drink?” It took Yuuri a glance at his hand and a painstakingly long moment to realise he was even still holding one. The man laughed once again, a warm, resonating sound - genuine and not mocking in the slightest.

“Oh, um, sure.” He could feel the light tremble to his voice, though he hoped his anxiety about the whole situation did not appear too obviously to the man. Turning away, he led the man through to the theatre’s bar.

It was a place that appeared simultaneously open and intimate, and the light chatter that permeated the air only added to its atmosphere. Despite the dark woods and tasteful lights, it seemed bright and lively, even when it’s only current occupants consisted of a group of seven or eight, lightly greeting what Yuuri assumed to be new arrival. As they stepped up to the bar, he took a moment to assess his company. The man was handsome, with hair that glinted silver under the dim bar lights, and eyes as icy blue as the cocktail that was pushed towards him. His confidence was both intimidating and fascinating, and Yuuri was unsure on his first impressions.

“What do you want?” Yuuri threw out a panicked response and found himself sipping on a refreshing cosmo a few moments later. He found himself awkwardly glancing between the Russian next to him and the strange blue cocktail as he waited for a new conversation to strike up. He watched the pink in his glass decrease more and more every sip, as the tension prompted him to drink. Just as he feared he may start drinking that bit  _ too  _ fast, the man spoke up again.

“Sex in the driveway.” Yuuri’s ears began to ring suddenly, and he glanced around the bar rapidly. He felt the back of his neck flush in embarrassment as he took far too long to realise the man was gesturing his brightly coloured drink.

“Oh, right.” His laugh sounded too awkward to his ears, but it was complemented by a much sweeter melody found in his company’s. “I, um, didn’t catch your name earlier—?”

“Call me Victor.”

“Yuuri.” Victor reached out, and Yuuri felt himself intake a small breath of air, which remained entrapped within his lungs as long as they shook hands. The coldness to his new acquaintance’s hand was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his own palm, and it sent a strange thrill through him. When they withdrew their limbs after the brief contact, Victor picked up his obnoxious cocktail and gestured for Yuuri to step ahead of him.

Yuuri found himself frozen completely in conversation with Victor, the man letting words fall easily from his mouth and able to coax them from Yuuri’s own, time seeming to melt away around them. The moment it was time to leave each others company and find their seats (supposedly on opposite sides of the concert hall), Yuuri began to feel hot again, until Tchaikovsky granted him peace.

\---

_ St. Petersburg, Day 8 _

“Yurio!”

Yuuri didn’t flinch when he was greeted by a cold stare from the teenager, but instead stood by whilst Yuri caught his breath. He waved goodbye to Sana as she left, the promise of extra practice for the pas de deux still heavy on his tongue.

“I’m ready now, asshole.” Yuuri grabbed his bag, and the two left, walking in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable. The snowflakes attacked them with gentle kisses, and  they hurried towards the cafe it had now become tradition to frequent.

The door rattled open in charming disrepair, and it didn’t take them long to spot Otabek and Phichit, earphones in and expressions perfectly contrasting. Yuri let himself slump next to his best friend, whilst Phichit jumped up to gift Yuuri some of his warmth - by wrapping his arms around him in a great bear hug. The cafe always felt like their own little corner of the world, with mumbled conversations in Russian and light bursts of laughter wrapping them in comfort. It wasn’t long this time however, until Yuri had started complaining about his skating coach.

“I mean, he’s good but sometimes he really pisses me off, ya know?” Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment, before Phichit decided to speak up.

“I’ve been kind of curious about your skating life since you showed up with Lilia’s ex-husband, Yurio.”

“Me too, to be honest.” Yuuri felt awkward admitting it, but something about Yuri’s almost double life intrigued them all.

“Really? I mean, I have training on Saturday.” He quickly glanced at Otabek, who didn’t respond. “Maybe he’ll ease up a little if one or two of you show up?”

\---


End file.
